


Games of Skill and Chance

by tjmystic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:15:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2735666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjmystic/pseuds/tjmystic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumple takes Belle to a carnival</p>
            </blockquote>





	Games of Skill and Chance

Games of Skill and Chance  
theladyofthedarkcastle prompted - what about, Rumbelle at an amusement park or boardwalk and Belle wants one of the like cute stuffed animals and Rumple is determined to win it for her

Rating: G  
Author’s Note: Well, I can’t be smutty and angsty all the time. Have to give you lovelies a break every now and then ;) Hope you enjoy this cute little ficlet!

 

“Step right up, step right up! Try your luck at a game of Cover-the-Spot!” 

Rumplestiltskin sneered at the little man at his stand, jumping up and down as if that would gain him more spectators. In his opinion, it only succeeded in making him look more ridiculous. An impressive feat indeed, considering that he was already wearing a jester’s uniform. 

It was made all the more annoying, he thought, by the fact that Belle was besotted with him. 

“Oh look!” she squealed. “That looks like so much fun!”

“Hardly,” he scoffed. “Besides, dearie, we’re here to make a deal, not play carnival games.” 

She didn’t seem to care. If not for her smirk, he wouldn’t even have known she was listening. 

“You make deals all the time,” she said. “You never go to the fair. And, besides, I never get to come with you. Shouldn’t I get to pick something fun to do for our first time out?” 

Her hand lingered over a stuffed toy dog, petting it as if it were real. Huffing, he grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her away, all but pulling her behind him down the crowded lane. 

“For good reason you don’t come along with me, dearie. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

“And yet, you keep me around,” she muttered. 

He bit his cheek, forcing himself to let that one slide. “As I’ve told you twice already, this particular… client, has an interest in beautiful young women. An interest I thought to capitalize on. I can hardly play the part myself, after all.”

He tittered, running his hand out in front of his body as if to prove his point. Instead or shrinking back or glaring at him for ruining her fun, though, his little housemaid giggled. Giggled. At him. Had he any hair on his arms, it would’ve bristled. 

“I don’t know,” she smiled, trying – and failing – to hide her laughter behind her free hand. “I think you’re quite fetching. Thank you for the compliment, though.”

“Compliment?” He wrinkled his nose. “What compliment?”

She was just close enough behind him that he could see her face blush. “You said I was beautiful.”

His feet slid in the mud, sending him sprawling into the next cart. The old crone working it glared at him, but he just lowered his head, moving along beside it as quickly as he could manage. He was thankful for his hood – Belle couldn’t see his own cheeks turn red while he was wearing it. He turned to face her, trying to look as menacing as possible. As it turned out, though, he needn’t have bothered. Her gaze had wandered back to the fair games. 

With his free hand, he brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on, and they hadn’t even reached his client yet. And there she was, his silly little maid, dragging him along to a nearby stall. If he didn’t know for a fact that it would cause a stir, he might have screamed. 

“Dearie, where are you going?” he groaned. “Our meeting is in that direction, not this one.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she called back half-heartedly. “It’s just that there’s a stuffed horse over here that look just like the one I had at home.” 

That familiar, tingling feeling of guilt bubbled up in his stomach. Two months, and she was still homesick. 

His fingers twitched nervously at his side. 

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about. It’s just a silly animal. I’m sure you could find one just like it at the fair two towns over.”

“I wouldn’t know.” She bit her lip and, blessedly, stopped. He’d feel a lot more thankful for that, he thought, if she didn’t look so… melancholy. “I’ve never actually been to a fair before.” 

He tried to avoid staring at her. It didn’t work, but he still tried. 

“Believe me, dearie, you haven’t missed much. My papa used to run a stand at a fair, and it was nothing but trouble.” 

“Is that why you don’t like them?” 

He was halfway prepared to answer her before he realized he’d already said too much. The last thing anyone needed to know about him was his past. Especially when that “anyone” was his nosy little maid. 

Tongue between his teeth, he bent forward to reprimand her. But, again, she wasn’t paying attention. Annoyed, he followed the direction of her stare. They landed on that same tawny horse hung up on the wooden cart. 

His eyes darted back to his maid’s face, looking, still, for any trace of trickery. As usual, though, he didn’t find any – she was as honest in her sadness as everyone else was in hiding it. He wanted to throw something – either she was the best actress he’d ever met, which would be saying quite a lot, or he’d genuinely upset her.

Awkwardly, he lifted his hand from hers and patted her about the shoulder. She didn’t look at him, but her mouth had stopped moving downwards. He was sure it was directed at his pitiful attempt to comfort, and not because he’d done her any good. 

He sighed, then cleared his throat. 

“I… I could try to win it. If you would like.”

That seemed to do it. She blinked, disrupting whatever sullenness had taken her over, and finally turned to face him. Her eyes were very bright, he noticed. And blue. Had they always been blue?

“You would do that?” she asked carefully. “For me?” 

Her eyes were too open. He didn’t like it. Shaking, he drew his hand away from her shoulder and twiddled his fingers before his chest, putting some much needed space between them.

“Not for you, dearie,” he hummed, sounding a bit too theatrical even to his own ears, “for me. You won’t hush up until I get the dratted thing for you, so it’s in my best interest to do so. Unless you want to be a decent maid, for once, and actually do as I say.”

She hadn’t stopped staring at him. In fact, she’d decided to smile at him. A shiver went down his spine – yes, he’d have to find out what sort of game she was playing once they got back to the castle. 

“Thank you, Rumplestiltskin,” she said softly. “That’s… no one’s ever offered to do something like that for me before.” 

He opened his mouth to correct her, remind her again that his decision had absolutely nothing to do with making her happy, but her hand was on his once more, leading him effortlessly through the crowd. At some point, it seemed, she’d taken off her glove, and, now, he could feel her bare skin on his. If he hadn’t already tripped once today, he might’ve done so again. So strange…

“Oh, and no magic,” Belle piped up beside him. “Let’s see if you can win a game of darts without it.”

He hated carnivals.


End file.
